concrete poetry

and so it goes
there is an hour of peaceful rest
and my name is truthful
candles toppling sideways in tomato cans
in all things not spoken of
which i wish to remark
to the passionate lover
what was it the engines said
star-dust and vaporous light
be in me as the eternal moods
when, full of warm and eager love
to what shall a woman liken her beloved
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies